


Just What I Needed

by taffrey



Category: New Girl, The Office (US)
Genre: Breakup AU, Crossover Pairings, Genuinely sorry, M/M, two boneheads getting boned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26080819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taffrey/pseuds/taffrey
Summary: Author Nick Miller is taking a writing retreat in Scranton, PA after a messy "break" from his girlfriend Jessica Day. He picks up a bartending gig to help with his writer's block and ends up meeting Jim Halpert, the weary newly single paper salesman. Their relationship blossoms slowly as the two realize they have a lot more in common than they thought.
Relationships: Jim Halpert/Nick Miller, Pam Beesly/Jim Halpert, nick miller/jim halpert
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Wandering Eyes

Nick was exhausted. He’d fallen into a routine, but it wasn’t giving him what he needed. He had come out to Scranton, Pennsylvania only two months prior, on a writing retreat. His “break” with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Jess, was not going well. He had hoped the time away from her, and from Los Angeles, would clear his mind and let him work on his next novel. His only updates came in the form of a weekly phone call from his roommate and self-described best friend, Schmidt. Nick Miller was never the type for social media, but sometimes he wished there was a way to check up on Jess without her knowing. But he’d never let anyone know that.

  
His agent had procured a small studio apartment for him in town. _What more would I need?_ he had chuckled darkly when she showed him the listing. The space began to encroach on him by the second week. The author knew that if he stayed holed up for too long, everything, especially his writing, would begin to suffer. So he turned to the job he knew best - bartending. This was how Nick Miller, acclaimed author of Z is for Zombie found himself quietly serving drinks at Poor Richard’s for four nights a week. He didn’t need the money, but he knew, despite what he’d try and convince himself otherwise, that he needed the socialization.

  
It was mostly empty in the bar that night. It was a Thursday, which means that Nick’s workweek was almost over (he didn’t want to take the good weekend nights from the locals who really needed the tips). He had started to recognize some of the regular patrons. Some of them came from local franchise shops, Best Buy, Subway; spots that thrive in smaller towns like Scranton. Another small group came from a paper company down the street. They often came together when they did come in. But some nights, one of the paper company guys would come on his own. As a writer, Nick admired and often tried to characterize the easygoing gait the man had. There was a weariness in his shoulders when he’d order his beer. Nick tried to help his writing along by creating backstories for his patrons. The backstory for this guy, he decided, was that he was secretly a masochistic environmentalist hellbent on destroying the paper company from within. His weariness was simply the toll of his Earth-loving burden. Nick found himself smiling at his strange little premise, not realizing the other man was watching him. The bartender looked up, but the man had left.


	2. Drinking Alone

“I think I-“ She started to say something. Jim looked at her with pleading eyes. They had been arguing all night. She sighed, and continued.

“I think I expected more from this than you were ever willing to give me.” Pam immediately broke eye contact after delivering the blow. “And after everything that’s happened, I don’t think we can fix this.”

“Pam, please,” Jim reached out for her hand.

“It’s over, Jim.”

“No- you- you can’t do this!”

Pam grabbed her purse and her keys, laid her wedding band on the mantel, and walked out of the house. She submitted her resignation from Dunder Mifflin the next day. She didn’t even come by the house to collect her things; she sent friends. Friends who all whispered in hushed tones while Jim sat in the living room drinking beer as they cleared out her things. He eventually grew tired of drinking beer by himself in the living room and began going out to drink beer by himself in bars. He tried avoiding old haunts until he realized the pricing at Poor Richard’s truly couldn’t be beat. That’s what he told himself, anyway. There was also the draw of the new bartender who, as far as he knew, only worked weekdays. Jim hadn’t spoken to him just yet - he wasn’t really ready to talk to more strangers after working all day as a salesman. But he was still intrigued. He watched the bartender’s fluid, calculated motions. He noticed the ease with which he’d conduct himself; breaking up quarrels, flirting for tips, and making one mean Old Fashioned (or so he heard from the other end of the bar). Jim knew it would cause a ruckus in the small town if he moved on so quickly, but he couldn’t help but sneak a look every now and then. He was no saint, after all. _Always looking after himself,_ was what Pam had said during a couples therapy session. _So be it_ , he thought. After all, who else was going to? Some nights, he’d notice the bartender - Nick, he had learned - looking over at him. Some part of him hoped that Nick was interested, but the more cynical side of him knew he was probably trying to figure out how to get more tips. Though, Jim surmised, he’d get better tips if he worked weekends. Figuring out the bartender’s “deal” became a bit of a game for Jim. It helped him keep his mind off of other things, like his divorce.


	3. Gold Fashioned

It had been several weeks of the two men noticing each other from afar. It wasn’t as if they never interacted; that would be impossible. Nick would take a terse order for a beer or two now and again, but Jim never seemed to want to pursue any further conversation. It was another Thursday before the paper salesman broke the silence.

“Uh, hey could I get a-“

“‘Nother beer? Comin’ right up my man.” By now, Nick knew the protocol. He’d come in, have a few beers, decline most conversation, and leave cash on the table. He’d just turned around with a fresh Stella for the man when Jim suddenly surprised him.

“Uh, well. No, actually, I was thinking of something different.”

Nick was nonplussed, but he was a professional after all. His initial bewilderment frown (well, most of his facial expressions featured a prominent frown) slowly curved into a smile.

“Hell yeah, what can do for you?” Nick didn’t want to prod any further; after all, this may have been the most he had ever spoken to the taller gentleman. He didn’t want to spook him.

Jim sucked in a breath and furrowed his brow, deep in contemplation. Nick couldn’t help but find the effort endearing. It was like he was trying to choose the coffin he was going to be buried in, not choosing a drink for chrissakes. He was tempted to write that thought down for his book but realized he couldn’t wrest his attention away.

“I was thinking of seeing what your specialty drink is. I mean, I hope it’s nothing too crazy.”

“Nah, it’s an old fashioned.”

Jim smiled. “A gold fashioned? Is that what they call them in California?”

Nick was taken aback. How did he know? Jim nodded to the barback and waiters.

“I asked around. They said you’re from LA.”

“I am.” Nick put the beer down.

“They also told me you’re an author.”

Nick nodded, confirming “That too.”

There was a moment of silence. Nick was afraid he’d been too standoffish in fear of overwhelming Jim. He wasn’t the talkative type, but as a bartender he knew he’d have to be social. Jim carried on.

“So, your drink…?”

“Oh, right. It’s just an old fashioned. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

Jim smiled. “I don’t think it will”


	4. Catching Up

Tuesday was a cold day. Nick was sporting a few layers of sweatshirts in his small apartment, despite having the heater on. _LA’s made you weak!_ he thought to himself. He didn’t have the tolerance for cold temperatures he used to have back in Chicago. He hadn’t made much progress on his book, _but you’ve made some progress with Jim, haven’t you, guy?_ Nick pushed the thoughts aside. His success with his “gold fashioned” drink means that Jim had been ordering one of those to kick off the night when he’d come in. Jim had also started to open up a little. Just a question here and there, about the drink, about something mundane. Sometimes he’d ask a question about Nick’s book. Despite its success, Nick never really could wrap his head around the idea that someone would want to read his writing, let alone discuss it with him. He’d tamp down any bubbling feelings of pride, insecurity, or interest when Jim asked about Julius Peppercorn. It was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t a friend ( _yet_ , a little voice added in his mind) or someone involved in the publishing and distribution process about his book. He figured the opinion would be pretty honest, and he appreciated the opportunity. The book he was working on right now had the potential to be a Julius Peppercorn novel, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pigeonhole himself into a series just yet. As of late, the protagonist was a young man, trying to find himself in the woods. It felt rugged, earthy. Nick spent hours googling different forestry websites trying to get the descriptions right. He was nervous that he was spending more time focusing on the forest and not the story of this young man’s dwelling existential crisis. He needed to get out and clear his head. Maybe he’d strike up a conversation with some of his bar patrons that night. They usually had a good story that’d kickstart something inside of Nick.

He got up, stretched, and checked his phone. He had one missed call from Schmidt. He cursed quietly under his breath. Schmidt would begin to worry if he didn’t call back soon. That man, smothering as he was, loved Nick unabashedly. Nick appreciated him, but didn’t tell him often enough. It was difficult to articulate the complexity of his emotions, he reasoned. He just wasn’t there mentally. Schmidt was always more comfortable with his own feelings; enough for the both of them it seemed. He called him back, determined to use the fact that he had to get ready for work as a good excuse to keep the call short. In reality, he had over an hour, but Schmidt didn’t need to know that - because he would take up every minute. His friend picked up on the second ring.

“Where were you? I thought you were in your apartment all day?” Schmidt accused.

“Hello to you too,” Nick said, smiling.

“Well hello Nick. How is the beautiful city of Scranton, Pennsylvania treating you?” He said the city’s name with scorn, like it was a disgusting bite of food he wanted to spit out.

Nick looked out his tiny window. “It’s pretty good, actually. I kind of like it here.”

“If you tell me that you want to move there, I’ll-“ Schmidt made a gagging noise.

“You’re telling me you won’t visit?”

“I mean,” Schmidt paused. Clearly the prospect disgusted him. “I’ll have to consider it strongly. I would never want to use my PTO for a destination with no Michelin-starred restaurants.”

Nick heard Schmidt’s wife, CeCe, mutter “Douche jar!” in the background. He chuckled.

“Yeah, no Michelin stars here. Now why would a tire company give a shit about food?”

“I’ve explained this to you several times, Nicholas -“

“Relax, I’m kidding! I never want to know. I’ll let it be one of life’s greatest mysteries.”

“But I was telling you the reason!”

“I’ll just chalk it up to one of those things, I guess. Like, why is the sky blue? No one knows.” He heard a frustrated noise on the other line. He was afraid Schmidt would launch into a small lecture. Instead, he changed the subject.

“How’s the book? How’s the dive bar?”

“Book’s the same. Bar’s been…” Nick paused. He smiled. “It’s been pretty good, actually.”

“Nicholas Miller, you sly dog. I can hear that smile in your voice.”

“What? I am not smiling with my voice. That’s not even a thing. I smile with my mouth.”

“Tell me. Is she pretty?”

“There is no ‘she,’ Schmidt.”

“Well there’s something that’s making you smile like that. The Griffin never made you smile like that.”

“Well that’s because The Griffin was my actual _job_. This is just like, a hobby.”

“That’s not it, and you know it.”

“I have to get ready for work now, I’m going to go.”

“I’ll find out sooner than later, Nick. You can never keep anything to yourself. Your back is probably already sweating!”

“Good-bye Schmidt!”

“Fine! Bye!”

They hung up. Nick stuck his hand under his layers and felt a bit of sweat pooling at the small of his back. _It’s probably these 18 sweaters I have on_ , he tried reasoning to himself. Schmidt was right. He was never any good at keeping things to himself. His fight or flight instincts kicked in almost immediately. Schmidt was right about a lot of things. He noticed the smile Nick had, even over the phone. It was enough to spur him into action to get ready for work.


	5. Just A Short Walk

Nick got into work a few minutes early. He didn’t mind; it helped him get into focus. He didn’t want to get derailed from his recent conversation with his friend. Admittedly, he didn’t want to get derailed and _distracted_ with thoughts of Jim. Jim. James. A nice, solid name. He toyed with the idea of naming his new book protagonist James. James…maybe Jamie. Jamie Spears, he thought. _Where had he heard that name before?_ _It sounded nice._ He lost himself in thoughts of James/Jamie’s forest misadventures for the the next hour or so. Then his favorite patron walked in. _Hey now,_ he stopped himself. _I don’t play favorites,_ he tried to tell himself. Then Jim smiled. Nick’s mind went completely blank.

Jim sat down at the bar. He was glad his favorite bartender ( _Since when do you have a favorite bartender?_ he thought to himself) had a consistent schedule. He took his usual seat at the bar and ordered a “gold fashioned” with a smile. Nick laughed. He loved the way the drink order would make Nick smile with his whole face. Most of the time when Nick “laughed” with the other patrons, the smile wouldn’t reach his eyes. But Jim saw the way the author’s eyes crinkled whenever he’d refer to their little inside joke. It felt nice to be a part of something small and conspiratorial again. _Like when you’d play tricks on Dwight with Pam?_ He pushed the thoughts away. Pam was gone; gone from Dunder Mifflin, from his life, and from his heart. Or, at least he needed her to be gone from his heart. It was time to move on.

“Something on your mind, man?” Nick slid the short glass over to him on a napkin. He looked earnest as he asked.

Jim exhaled quietly. “Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, making eye contact with the bartender. Nick was wearing an olive green henley tonight. Jim would never admit it, but sometimes he’d find himself smiling at henleys when he’d see them in a store.

“All right then, you just let me know if you want something else.” Nick was good about not pushing his patrons; he knew they’d open up if they wanted to. Or sometimes, after a few drinks, it was whether they wanted to or not.

“Yeah, sure,” Jim smiled at him. Nick didn’t necessarily want to walk away just yet. He pivoted.

“Hey, this sounds like a weird question. Have you heard of the name James Spears? Or Jamie Spears?” Nick begins to dry a glass to mask his anxiety.

Jim purses his lips in a ponderous frown. He breathes in and takes a sip of his drink. Suddenly, his eyes widen.

“I think…” Jim tilts his head. “I think that’s Britney Spears’ sister’s name?

“James Spears? Her sister’s name is _James Spears?_ ”

“No,” Jim pauses to laugh. “No, I think her name is Jamie Spears.”

“It’s Jamie LYNN Spears!” a drunk woman from the end of the bar sneers at them.

Jim and Nick look over completely in synch with identical looks of bewilderment.

“Her sister’s _name_ is Jamie _LYNN_ Spears!” she yells again.

“And for that, you get a free…” Nick scoops some ice into a cup, “Water!” He fills the glass and takes it to the woman. She nods in thanks. He walks back over to Jim.

“So, I guess that name’s off the table.”

“What was it for?” Jim inquires.

“Oh, just some name for my book. It sort of popped in my head this afternoon, and I wasn’t sure where I had heard it. But, well, now I know!”

“You’re working on a new book?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s still a work in progress. Just kind of have the setting picked out for now-“ Nick was about to continue but he was flagged down by a customer. He held up a finger and quickly shuffled away. Jim took the time to quickly google “Jamie Lynn Spears.” He read her Wikipedia page as he waited.

“All right! I’m back!” Nick slid back into view. “You ready for another one of these? A beer maybe?”

“Yeah, I’ll take another gold fashioned.”

“Two in one night! Big night for my specialty. Coming right up!” Nick was secretly pleased. Or, should he be concerned? Jim hadn’t ordered two in a row before. Was he feeling sad tonight? His curiosity got the better of him.

“Big night?”

“No, just thought, ‘Why not?’”

“That’s enough of a reason for me.” Nick began to saturate the sugar cube with bitters. There was a small silence. Christopher Cross’ “Ride Like The Wind” became more audible in the bar. Miller began to hum along as he muddled the drink.

“So tell me ab-“

“How’s your-“

Both men tried to start speaking at the same time. They laughed. Nick motioned over, “You first” he said, smiling.

“So, how is your book coming along?” Jim asked.

The conversation flowed easily from there. Soon, somehow, it was last call. Nick even found himself surprised when he announced it down the bar. He leaned over to grab Jim’s empty glass.

“Look, uh, as your bartender, I have to ask - do you have a ride home?”

Jim had drank far more than he usually had. His cheeks were ruddy, almost boyish. He squinted his eyes in thought. He exhaled dramatically.

“Wow. No. Not to alarm you, but I’m not entirely sure how I got here.”

Nick found himself at a crossroads. The seasoned bartender in him knew to just call the guy a cab and send him off with a pat on the back. The man in him, _the lonely man_ , his inner voice added, knew his studio was walking distance from the bar. He wasn’t sure if it was worth taking the risk. Would Jim spurn him? Would he stop coming to the bar? Nick eyes widened at the thought.

“What’re you freakin’ out about over there?” Jim slurred. Nick paused. He decided on a version of the truth.

“Uh, I’ll be honest, man, I’m kind of worried about how you’re getting home. Do you want-“

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ll go to your place.” Jim was squinting even harder now. Nick wasn’t sure if he was about to fall asleep. He was secretly pleased that he didn’t even have to ask, though.

“Ok. It’s just walking distance, so you’ll be able to walk that last one off.” Nick couldn't help but smile to himself.

Jim just turned his head and exhaled through his nose. The other man laughed and accepted it. “Ok, perfect,” Nick continued, resting his hands on the counter. “I’m going to go try and see if Ricky will do me a favor so I can leave.” He pointed across the bar dramatically. “Do. Not. Move.” Jim nodded quietly, sipping his water.

Nick turned on his heel and walked to the back office with a spring in his step. He emerged, minutes later, with his coat.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before Ricky changes his mind.”

Nick helped Jim off the tall bar chair. Jim held the back of the chair for stability. They stepped out into pouring rain.

“Oh shit! This is crazy. This is almost as bad as when I pro-“ Jim cut himself off. He shook his head. “It’s uh, just bad rain.”

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that sentence ended. He mumbled in agreement about the rain.

“It’s uh, it’s this way.” The bartender pointed down the street to his right. The pair began walking, with Nick occasionally offering support to the other, laughing as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably proofread these more so if anyone notices some errors, please let me know.


	6. It's All I Got

The door was stuck. Well, the key was stuck in the lock. Nick leaned in close to the door, threatening it.

“Now is really _not the time for this_.” He seethed. They were both soaked. They looked like they had jumped in the pool, not walked home from a bar. Jiggling the lock sometimes worked. Jim had slid down the wall and was singing “Ride Like The Wind.” _At least someone’s having a good time_ , Nick thought. He angrily kicked the bottom corner of the door. The key turned easily. He threw open the door before turning to help Jim off the floor.

“All right let’s get us some towels…shoot. I only have the one towel. Ok. I’ll just air dry.” Nick suddenly missed living with Schmidt. _Schmidt!_ He remembered his friend had sent him a box of home goods he shoved in the closet. He could almost hear his voice now; “Nick, you’re living on your own now, you need more than one set of sheets and a towel. This is embarrassing.” He threw the closet door open and tore a the box. He muttered a small “thanks” to the ceiling as he pulled out a soft towel from the box.

“You ok over there?” Jim had simply repositioned himself on the opposite side of the wall.

“Yes! Yes. Ok. Let me get you this towel, and uh, some clothes to change into.” Nick grabbed some clothes haphazardly from his clean laundry basket. Or, at least, he was pretty sure they were clean. He tried to do a subtle sniff test. It passed. Jim accepted the towel and clothes gratefully, along with Nick’s hand pulling him off the floor. The two collided when Jim overextended his energy. Nick’s heart skipped a beat. He pointed in the direction of the bathroom door.

“Bathroom’s that way, if you want to change.”

“Thanks.” Jim quietly shuffled over to the bathroom.

Nick was having trouble peeling his own clothes off. Once he finally changed, he felt nervous. _Am I supposed to sit at my desk?_ That’d be weird. His nerves led him to stand hopelessly in the middle of the room. The bathroom door creaked open, and Jim stepped out in pants clearly too short for him, and a shirt that was _just_ the right amount of tightness, Nick thought.

“Hey.” Jim smiled at Nick. He did a small twirl to show off his look. Nick chuckled.

“So, I’ve only got the one bed here,” Nick started.

“I’m fine with sharing if you are.” Jim was very agreeable when he was drunk.

“Ok. Ok. That works for me.”

They got into bed and laid on their backs.

“Crazy night, huh?” Jim said.

“You’re telling me.” Nick scoffed. He smiled. “Kind of nice though.”

“Definitely kind of nice.”

Nick leaned over and turned off his lamp. Jim had already fallen asleep. Nick followed soon after, with a smile on his face.


	7. The Next Day

Nick awoke to the sound of shuffling. He could hear Jim moving around. He heard a small “Aw, no” from the bathroom. He had no concept of what time it was, but he knew it was far too early.“Hey,” he called out to Jim.  
“Hey.” Jim responded and poked his head out the door. He held up his clothes, wrinkled from an apparently vigorous wringing. “I don’t know if you know this, but wet clothes apparently do not dry well when they’re in a pile on the floor” He chuckled.  
“Well, shit man, uh, what now?” Nick was not awake enough for real thoughts. Jim had fully emerged from the bathroom and was looking at Nick. Some would say he had a fond look in his eyes. The bartender’s hair was disheveled and he was grumbly. But he was brightening up as he realized Jim was still here. With wet clothes. That needed to be dried. In a dryer. A dryer! Nick had a dryer. His brain was working again.  
“I have a dryer. I have a dryer!” Nick’s excitement about remembering his small appliance was amusing to Jim.  
“Oh boy!” Jim feigned excitement. Well, he wasn’t faking it much. Nick was kind of cute in the morning. But Jim still had that crusty hungover feeling. He couldn’t believe he was trying to get to work right now. He just wanted to be back in bed.  
Nick rubbed his face a few times and sprung out of bed to quickly grab the wet clothes from Jim. The clothes were thrown unceremoniously into the dryer and with a few cranks and buttons, it was tumbling furiously. Nick exhaled in satisfaction.  
“What time is it, anyway?” Nick asked, leaning against his small kitchen counter. Jim was sitting at the desk, head in his hands. He was in no shape to be even thinking about work right now. He grumbled loudly.  
“Time to go back to bed, honestly.” Jim responded, tiredly. Nick quietly agreed. The dryer clanged on. Suddenly, Jim’s eyes widened.  
“Oh, oh shit.” He exhaled loudly and groaned.  
Nick’s thoughts raced. Did Jim suddenly realize where he was? Where he had slept last night? He braced himself. Finally, Jim spoke, breaking Nick out of his thoughts.  
“Those pants…I think they’re dry clean only. I’m pretty sure the dryer is going to shrink them. Fuck.”  
Nick was quietly relieved to hear that. But it did renew his hatred for the concept of “dry clean only.” Who makes clothes that are dry clean only? He only wanted to purchase shirts that could be washed in a river. Hearty clothes for hearty living. Schmidt’s entire wardrobe was probably dry clean only. But, then again, all of his clothes seemed clean and smelled fine. Not that Nick was going around smelling the man. But he had working olfactory senses.  
“You ok there?” Jim asked Nick. Apparently Nick had just been staring at the floor the entire time he was lost in his thoughts about dry clean clothing.  
“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry to hear about the pants, man. My bad. Send me a bill or something and I’ll get you a new pair.” Nick couldn’t believe he was saying those words. _Send me a bill?_ Wasn’t this the exact shit that made him drop out of law school? _But you did ruin his pants_ , he thought. Fine. Fine!  
“I’m guessing this is pretty early for you,” Jim chuckled.  
Nick inhaled quietly and rubbed his face. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he was awake and functioning at this hour. Whatever hour this way. What time was it? Did Jim ever tell him?  
“Yeah, yeah actually it is.” Right then, the author’s stomach grumbled loudly. Miller looked down at his stomach, nonplussed. He stared off into the corner again before saying, “Not too early for my stomach, apparently.”  
Jim went to check his phone. It had sustained some water damage from the walk.  
“Looks like no one can reach me today. Do you want to get breakfast?”  
Nick was not expecting that second part. Breakfast? He nodded.  
“Yeah I can get behind some breakfast. I’ve just never been awake early enough to find a spot that serves it.”  
“I think I can help you there.”  
They smiled at each other.


End file.
